Finding Hashbrown

I had a bad day. My heart was hurting. I felt lost.

I got home tonight and prayed. I started praying this one thing, over and over and over, “Father, find me.” Find me, find me, find me.

Phil had been playing piano, I had been taking a shower, and Hashbrown was in the yard.

And then he wasn't. Hashbrown escaped from the yard.

I know that dogs get out all the time, but this was a completely unhelpful fact. I ran out of our house, in my pajamas, hair soaking wet, and got on my bike. At 10:30 at night, I rode around AU campus yelling, “Hashbrown! Hashbrown!” Asking everyone I saw if they'd seen him. Frantic. Determined. I wouldn't stop until we found him. Nothing else mattered.

Phil called me about 10 minutes into the search. He found our puppy at the neighbor's house. He'd been playing with a dog named Patches.

As it sunk in, as I turned my bike towards home, as I started to realize how ridiculous I must look in my pajamas and wet hair and tear-streaked face riding my bike as fast as I can yelling “Hashbrown!” over and over again, God spoke to me:

This is how I find you. This is what it's like.

Determined. Not even considering the humiliation or the risk. He doesn't stop until we're found. And he loves us. Loves us with a crazy and wild pajama-wearing, bike-riding love.